


Xénophobie

by RedSkittleQueen



Category: Claymore, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Clare searching for Raki, Gen, Happens sometime after Eren's trial in Female Titan Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSkittleQueen/pseuds/RedSkittleQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Divergence after chap 83. Clare searches for Raki in unfamiliar western lands, where humans have built massive walls against strange man-eating monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xénophobie

**Disclaimer:** I own zilch from either fandom. 

 

**A.N:** Divergence after Scene 83 (Fresh Blood Agatha) in  _ Claymore _ ; s et after Eren's trial in the Female Titan arc of  _ Shingeki no Kyojin _ _.  _ This is my first foray in either fandom, and though I tried keeping all characters true to themselves, I will happily accept any critique you might have on their portrayals. 

 

**A.N#2:** Written to post-rock dystopian ambience, such as to “The Rivers That Run Beneath The City” by  _ The Calm Blue Sea.  _

 

.

 

“After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.”

–Ernest Hemingway _, A Farewell to Arms_

  
  


 

.

 

Xénophobie

 

.

 

 

The house was crushed, as if something enormous had stepped on it. J udging by the long state of decay, it would've happened ninety years ago, maybe even longer.  The surrounding boards had long since caved, sagging and smothered in moss. Clare was an ex-warrior of the Organization: over her lifetime she'd seen enough death and horror to make lesser creatures go mad, but  t his wasn't the first abandoned building she'd encountered, and she had a feeling it wouldn't be her last. Yesterday it'd been a whole village, completely deserted. The surrounding forests had overtaken much of the infrastructure, leaving only shambles behind. The day before that, more houses, more empty towns. Since entering the farthest western region of Lautrec, she'd yet to run into anyone, human,  yoma , or other Claymores. 

It was as if all the humans had simply left.

Though she'd never been here before, Clare couldn't help but wonder what tragedy could've caused this. Yoma? No, not likely. Yoma preferred to blend in with humans and hunt in secret. All indications pointed towards something gigantic. Perhaps Riful of the West had caused this decades ago; this blatant destruction was something an Abyssal One would do, even one as a deceptively polite girl-child. With one last look at the abandoned house Clare moved on, following the same westward track she'd been on since she left Lacroa a week ago.

_ Were the humans all eaten?  _ It seemed a bit excessive for Riful to do this, even for her. Perhaps the humans simply abandoned the west and moved closer to the centre of the island.  _ It would make sense—after all, most of the humans live in Toulouse,  _ Clare thought. 

At last the forest she'd been traveling in gave way to a vast openness. The ex-warrior blinked in the warm sunlight. Seven years hiding in the north had done much to blunt her sense of colour, but that wasn't what stopped her. A wall stared back at her, higher than even the Holy City back east. The design was human, but it was hard to believe humans had built such a mountainous creation. It was so tall Clare had to crane her head back to spy the top. _To keep Riful out?_ she thought. Had the humans here tried to protect themselves from the yoma this way? Clare began walking towards it, keeping an eye out for any indication of another living creature. There were no signs of foot traffic or supply lines. Nothing. Neither were there any visible entrances, and the closer Clare became, the more she realized the wall wasn't just immensely high, but stretched in either direction. It could take hours—days, even—to find the entrance to such a massive barrier. Hours and days she didn't have. 

_Sid had said Raki traveled west. Maybe he was here behind this strange wall?_

Captain Miria told her not to draw attention to herself, but it wasn't like there were any humans to notice her powers, anyway. Clare scaled the wall in a few dozen bounds, running up the sheer stone wall with little difficulty.  _ If only you could see me now, Teresa,  _ she thought, remembering that long-ago time she saw the warrior leap effortlessly down a rock cliff. She'd tumbled after the Claymore, willing death over abandonment. Nostalgia bit deep within her ribs, but she brushed the old pain aside as she reached the top of the wall. The wind rustled her black cloak, ruffling the cowl. There was a freshness to the breeze  that reminded her of the northern winds, sharp and clear. Clare closed her eyes and concentrated, but it was no use: like her, Cynthia and Yuma were concealing their yoki. It'd be useless to pinpoint their location. But at this vantage point the whole world stretched before her in a vibrant panorama, as empty and yawning as a distant dream. 

She was alone.

The wall was thick, at least twenty-four feet wide. The ex-warrior walked its breadth and looked out on the other side; there, below in the distance, she could see suggestions of towns. She closed her eyes again, this time searching for yoma, but as hard as she focused, she couldn't sense any of the monsters' foul yoki. There was nothing to sense.  _Odd,_ she thought. Why build walls if there were no yoma? When she reopened them again, she caught something she'd missed before. Clare frowned. 

_Another wall?_

It was unmistakable. Distance faded it to a faint white line, just as tall as this one.  _What kind of people were these?_ It didn't matter. There was a chance Raki was somewhere behind these walls, and she couldn't pass up the chance to see if he'd made it this far. Her cloak billowed about her as she stepped off the edge. 

_ I'm coming, Raki.  _

 

_._

 

.s.

 

.

 

Much of the scattered towns proved to be disappointing. Like the first villages she'd seen, everything was abandoned. It was always the same: shattered bricks and pulverized wood covered the landscape, as if something—or things—had waded and trampled through. A majority of the foundations remained, still forming walls despite lacking roofs. There was no wind. Everything was oddly soundless, as if a great vacuum had came and sucked up everything and left only dead air. She felt hushed. Unlike the other towns outside the first wall, the devastation was far more recent, less than a decade old. Less and less it felt like Riful's work, but the ex-warrior had little else to go on. Surely it couldn't be some new monster from the mainland? Clare picked her way through the debris and moved on, always taking care not to stay too long in one area. She left the villages closest to the wall behind and kept heading westward, senses keen for any tendril of yoki aura of her two comrades, Cynthia and Yuma. Soon great expanses of fields and pockets of forest replaced the empty cities, liquid birdsong filling the eerie quiet. There was no sign of Raki anywhere, and Clare began to think this empty wasteland of ghost towns had nothing to offer her besides questions.

She was in the middle of a field when she saw movement for the first time in a week.

Whatever it was, it was big. Bigger than any average yoma, it was large enough to go toe-to-toe with some of the larger Awakened Beings. At first glance she thought it was a human, which was impossible. Humans didn't grow this enormous. Clare moved closer to it, unable to sense any yoki. The creature had been sitting on the grass, legs spread out before it like a child, arms too proportionally small for its body. The ex-warrior was close enough to hear the heavy soughs of its breathing, and when she became abreast with it, it exhaled in a loud  _ hhnnnnnn. _ A human visage turned to stare at her. Clare stared back. The face was unmistakably human—but it had a terrible sense of distortion, as if it lacked everything that made it human in the first place. Its eyes were a living doll's, both dead and alive at the same time.  _ What is this?  _ Clare thought, backing away as the monster lumbered to its feet. Its grunting was growing more excited. Its mouth widened to comical proportions, its breath reeking of hot carrion. 

“What are you?” she asked. Even the simplest yoma had the power of speech; no doubt this one too could understand spoken language.

With a ferocious speed belaying its great size, it slammed its face down where Clare stood. Had she'd been human, she would've been pulverized to bloody meat. But Clare wasn't fully human. The Organization's ex-warrior leapt to safety, hand on her Claymore's handle. Unlike fighting yomas, there was no yoki to perceive and interpret.  _ I'll have to rely on eyesight alone,  _ she thought. She frowned, watching this strange human-not-human lift its face from the dirt, oblivious of the grass and stones indented on the surface of its eyes. It groaned again its  _ hough hough hough  _ before running at her like a lizard on its belly, mouth stretched impossibly wide. Again, Clare evaded its attack, dodging with reflexes that made her such a fearsome warrior in the east. 

“ _ Tch!  _ You're not making it easy to hold a conversation,” she said. “I'll ask again: what ar—”

Another monster appeared out of nowhere, smaller than the first. It had a disproportionally long head for its stubby body, but unlike its comrade, had working arms. It attempted to reach for Clare, groaning happily. Its happy  _ guh _ s fell away as it realized it no longer had an arm, but a smoking stump. It inspected its lost limb with a look of profound puzzlement, not appearing in pain at all. Before it could recover, Clare swung her blade again and took its head clean off. It sizzled as it smacked the ground. Unlike yoma or even Awakened Beings, it began to disintegrate before her in a cloud of hot, foul steam.

“Uh!” she said.

The second monster had tried for another crushing face-plant,  _ hough _ ing. Gritting her teeth, Clare sprang straight into the air, claymore singing in her hand. She brought it down in a classic guillotine move, and like its companion, removed its head from neck in one swipe. A splatter of hot blood glooshed over her face. With a low grunt of disgust she wiped it off, watching as the body before her transformed into a charred husk. The reek of its death filled her nose like a noxious gas, reminding her of corpses left to cook in the sun. After another few minutes nothing was left of them but blackened grass and bones; when she prodded them with a foot, they disintegrated into cinders. 

_ No yoki from either of them,  _ she thought as she left the carcasses, more cautiously now. Suddenly the wide green acres and pockets of woods didn't seem as empty, or as safe. Now the desolated towns made sense.  _ Couldn't speak. What new demon is this?  _ With a sinking heart she wondered if was somehow the Organization's doing. It would make sense—the first signs of destruction would've corresponded with the war on the mainland a hundred years ago. Were these monsters the Organization's first attempt to create weapons against their enemy? Clearly it backfired: these human-not-humans were as mindless and determined as abyssal-eaters.  _ What a strange place,  _ she thought. No wonder no other Claymore ventured this far west.  _ Even yoma seem to avoid this area. I can't imagine Riful caring enough to enter here.  _

Clare didn't know how long she walked. Night set; she encountered three more of the strange monsters during the night, but unlike their daytime companions, these were sluggish and droop-eyed. They let her pass unmolested, and Clare continued her way westward. Perhaps there were survivors behind the other wall, and Clare had to keep searching for Raki. Only when she exhausted all other places this west would she return to the central region of the island, back to Captain Miria and the other ex-warriors.

The following morning was glowing, a fresh wind bringing scents of pine resin and grass. The sky above was pink like the scales of a salmon, ribbed in a similar fashion. As the morning progressed, the sunrise faded into the same flame-blue as previous days. By late afternoon its golden glow warmed everything to a rosy aura. It was so odd to visit a place bereft of life yet so beautiful; in all of her other experiences, death equated to horror: the northern region of Alphonse had been brutal and savage, wind-swept and icy. The sky never lost its heavy leaden sludge, especially when blizzard after blizzard rocked against the mountains. The dreary mood matched the seven ex-warriors' hearts as they hid for nearly a decade, each honing their skills to eventually topple the Organization, the same Organization that sent their warriors to die in one massive battle. Destroying the Organization was Captain Miria's dream; for Clare, she had to find Raki again.

Then, and only then, could she die happy.

Clare was deep in similar thoughts when she heard the first hoofbeats. After over a week of birdsong and wind, it was a shock to hear horses. She paused, trying to feel for yoma, but like all other times, there was nothing. More monsters? She kept walking, ready to leap away at the first sign of trouble.

Clare rounded a small copse of trees and saw them. There were three humans, each horseback. All three wore green cloaks and odd contraptions at their hips. When one spied her he lifted a tiny handheld device to the air, only to rein his horse to a screeching halt. He and his companions had a brief shouting match, one he clearly won; he galloped towards Clare, pocketing whatever it was he'd taken out. He was already speaking when he pulled up besides her, his entire body coiled tight like a wire, humming with energy. She could see the sweat beading his brow.

“—the hell you think you're doing? Grab my hand!” Without waiting for a response the man thrust his arm to her, and without thinking of how strange it was for a human to offer assistance to a  _ Claymore _ , Clare took it. The moment she swung onto the back of the horse the man kicked it into a breakneck gallop, catching up to the two companions who sat atop sidling mounts. When he reached them all three continued their way, to the clear relief of the other two. 

“Dita? Who is this?” shouted one of them, a girl with a pretty face. There was nothing pretty about her expression, though. Hard and tense, there was nothing friendly about her. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her hair was the colour of spun fire.

“Dunno! Hey, lady—” her 'rescuer' turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, “—who are you?”

_ Do they not fear my silver eyes?  _ she thought. So it was true!  _ Maybe these people belong to the village Miria was talking about _ .  _ They don't know what a Claymore is.  _

“Clare,” she said over the pounding hooves. 

“Well, Clare,” Dita said, “you're real lucky we found you. You could've been eaten! How did you get out here?”

“We can talk about that later,” the girl snapped, banking her horse hard right. “Right now we need to return to formation. We can't be too far from the wall now.” Dita and the other man curved to follow, the horses beneath them stretching their necks as they raced breakneck across the valley. The edges of his metal contraptions chaffed against her legs but she bore the discomfort silently, still taken aback at the novelty of not being recognized as a yoma-human hybrid. Only a handful of humans looked at her beyond fear and suspicion, Raki being the first and dearest. It wouldn't last, of course. It was inevitable they would find out, and if there was anything the ex-warrior knew about human nature, it was their xenophobic pertinacity.

“There's another one!”

Clare looked over her shoulder. It was a towering monster, plodding through an open field with a ponderous lassitude. When it noticed the trio it seemed to pick up speed, starting to trot its way over. The girl reached at her belt and withdrew the same thing the man had, lifted it straight in the air, and fired. A column of bright red smoke exploded upward. _Warning others?_ Clare thought. Hard to believe normal humans had the capability to kill these—what had the man called them?—'Titans.' Back east humans required Claymores to take care of yoma; it was clear these humans had evolved to combat these creatures. For some reason she thought of Raki and his willingness to fight alongside her, and for a split moment of time she indulged in the memory of the boy. Then a darker, more insidious thought slid through her mind like a yoma's tongue. What if the Organization had a hand in these monsters' creation? A first failed attempt, perhaps, to mold a super-soldier to fight the dragon's kin on the mainland?

“Petra! On your left!”

Without missing a beat the girl raised her weapon and fired another column of red smoke into the air as another Titan burst through a strand of trees. The monster bowled over trees as if they were twigs, launching forward with enough violence to send the horses squealing and lunging. To their mounts' credit not one rider lost their cool, reigning their startled beasts with deft ease, quickly returning the pace to a controlled gallop. Even the horses were unfamiliar to Clare; they settled down from their fright instantly, as if born to it.

“Looks like a live one,” Dita laughed. “Still active despite the sunset, eh?”

Unlike a yoma's hungry cunning, the Titan's blank gaze threw a chill of revulsion up her spine. It was like an abyssal eater, mindless and unstoppable. This Titan wore a baby's face, the cheeks ballooned to the point of comedy, so much so its eyes were scrunched slits. Its mouth was a puckered hole, but as it chased after them, the hole elongated to a gaping leer. It slammed great shining rows of teeth in hollow  _clackclackclack_ s. It pounded after them, its footfalls vibrating in Clare's bones. 

Unlike the other two, Dita's horse had two passengers. Clare could hear the man curse under his breath as the Titan slowly gained after them.

“Not giving up, is it?” shouted the other man. He wore a strangely maniacal smile.

“We can't lead it to the wall,” the girl said. “We have to stop it before then.”

“Let's do this!” Dita said. “Whaddya say, Petra? Wanna raise that fifty-eight record to fifty-nine? Günther? You game?”

“You're on!”

Over his shoulder, Dita said to Clare, “Know how to ride a horse?”

When she was a warrior for the Organization Clare didn't need to ride. All the same, she said, “Yes.”

“Good! In a moment I'm going to dismount; I want you to take the reigns and keep going straight. No matter what, don't stop, even if we die. Eventually you'll reach a huge wall—there'll be the rest of the Survey Corps to keep you safe.”

Clare doubted she would let a human die if she could prevent it, but like before, simply replied, “Understood.”

By now the Titan was almost stomping on them, its stubby arms reaching. The group entered a pocket of trees and within seconds were airborne, swinging upward and forward as grapple hooks exploded from the contraptions on their hips. The moment Dita left the saddle the horse leapt forward, free from the extra weight. Instead of letting it run Clare slid into the leather seat, grabbed the reins, and pulled. The animal responded instantly, halting with a cat's swiftness. Clare turned in the saddle to watch the odd sight of flying humans, understanding now. The contraptions held gas canisters, allowing them to shoot through the air at incredible speeds. Instead of panicking, they flew as if dancing, switching directions and firing their hooks as if having done so since birth.  _Dragonflies,_ she thought. The man called Günther used the surrounding trees to swing low around the Titan's legs. Just before being stomped to bloody mush he swung upward, bringing a blade previously holstered straight up. A glint of light and a splatter of blood was all the warning the Titan had before losing its right arm. It seemed bewildered, stopping long enough to peer at the smoking stump, mouth working. It was still  _hugh_ ing deep in its barreled chest when the girl swung in and removed its other arm, her own blade flashing in the red of the sunset. 

Clare had little time to see how they finished the Titan. Drawn in by the quick movements and loud noises, another monster, tiny compared to all the others she'd seen so far, blundered for her. It emerged out of the woodwork in relative stealth, not making a sound as it darted, mouth opening side. When she pulled out her broadsword it made no attempt to dodge like a yoma or an Awakened Being would've done. Without a yoki aura, it was no longer simple to predict its movements, but Clare hadn't survived this long for no reason. The horse beneath Clare sensed danger and made to gallop away; the ex-warrior dismounted and without a second look brought her blade up and across. The broadsword, forged of material to bite through an Awakened Being's armored skin, made short work of the rigid meat. The head rolled off like a macabre kingpin. Its jaw was still clacking in its death throes when it began to smoke and sizzle, the foul scent of heated carrion filling the air. When Clare looked down at her blade the blood itself was already evaporating, hissing as it left the surface.

Clare returned the sword back into the sheath on her back, turning in time to see the three humans return from their own kill. Each wore varying degrees of surprise on their faces as they looked between the smoking body and her.

“Lady, did you kill just that Titan?” Dita asked, voice torn between blatant skepticism and awe.

Clare saw no point in lying. “Yes.”

There was another round of blinking. “H-how? You're not wearing any—”

“We can talk about it later,” Petra said, looking up at the sky. “We need to get back on the road and meet the others. We've spent enough time here as it and the last thing we need is getting caught out here after dark.”

Dita brought his fingers to his lips and whistled a complicated tune. He repeated it twice more before a dark shape clopped towards them from the road. It was his horse, munching happily on some grass between its bit.

“You're okay, Shallot, you're okay,” he muttered, extending a hand to grab its bridle. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” It blew its humid breath in his hand, blinking its liquid eyes before attempting to bite his bandana. He pushed its head away and returned to the saddle, looking down at Clare with appraisal. “You should come with us, lady. It's not very often we find people extramural, and we'd like to ask a few questions. Well, a lot of questions. If you don't mind.”

Clare hesitated for the briefest of seconds before thinking, _Maybe this same 'Survey Corps' know if any travelers like me have wandered through. Maybe they saw Raki on one of their forays._

“Alright,” she said. “I will join you. I have some questions of my own I would like answered.”

“Of course! That doesn't seem so hard,” Dita said, sharing a quick look with his comrades. They seemed to share a silent discussion, one Clare wasn't privy to. The rest of the journey proved uneventful, only spying one Titan in the far distance. The sky was a fiery explosion of spilled wine and deep orange by the time they reached the other half of their party. There were four of them, all sitting on horses, one of which was a dark-haired teenager. Petra clicked her horse to a trot, stern face lightening considerably after spying one in particular.

“Captain Levi!” she said when they were within conversational distance.

“You're late,” one of the men drawled. His hair was a mop of gray, shorn tight at the sides. A white cravat bunched at his throat. “What's your excuse this time? Did a Titan . . .” The taunt fell away as he noticed Clare.

“As a matter of fact, they did,” Dita said, before turning his attention to the smaller man, the one who was looking at Clare without any change of expression. “Captain, this is—this is Clare. We found her.”

“You can give your full report back at the castle,” the one called Levi said. His voice was cool and without inflection, yet Petra lit up with a glowing smile.

“Yessir!”

“Auruo, you lead the way,” the small man said, never taking his eyes off Clare.

“Fine,” the man with the gray mop said. He wheeled his horse around and kicked it into a gallop, the rest of the group hot on his heels. As they rode Clare could feel the Captain's gaze searing into her as he rode behind, teenage in tow. Unlike his chatting comrades he was silent, answering laconic “yes” and “no” whenever the adolescent behind him piped up. Clare bore it without comment, focusing instead on the wall ahead of her. It crept up on her like a black silhouette, massive and hulking. Tiny figures could be seen pacing on top. As they rode closer Clare couldn't help but feel—what? There was something about the wall, something heavy. There was such a looming quality to it that for a split instant, the ex-warrior was reminded of Riful of the West. Which made no sense. What did an Abyssal One have anything to do with a wall?

An entrance, tiny compared to the main gate, opened. A soldier, adorned with roses and thorns on his dusty military jacket, saluted as they rode past. It was wide enough to admit one horse at a time and small enough to make the tallest rider duck. It was dark for a second, the clack of horseshoe against stone harsh and ringing. Then a vibrant marketplace greeted her: houses crammed together close enough to kiss; streets straight as rulers bisected crammed intersections; people haggled prices for the last ingredients for their suppers. Other than the Holy City of Rabona, she'd never seen a place so crowded with human life. It was as if everyone in existence was in this one place. Compounded by the fact she'd spent seven years hiding in the desolate mountains of the north, seeing the sea of humanity took her breath away. _So this is where they are,_ she thought as the Survey Corps clopped past the people still out despite the aging hour. Quite a few stopped what they were doing to watch the small party ride past them, whispering in groups of two or three. Clare was used to this. The hushed mutters and stares were almost a comfort in this unfamiliar land. What she wasn't used to was the open adoration on some of their faces. None of it, of course, was directed to her. Her black cloak and cowl hid much of her features, and in light of the obvious celebrity status of those she traveled with, she passed unnoticed. 

Eventually the crowded town gave way to the other side of the circular wall, where another bigger gate opened to allow them passage. A vase expanse of fields, farms, and wooded sections opened before them, and the quiet of a thin, warm breeze replaced the screams of children, clatter of cartwheels, and the knelling of bells. G ünther was engaging the other man Mike on the merits of greasing one's vertical gear the hour before an op, rather than the customary night before. Petra chatted to the kid behind Captain Levi, making mindless small talk that was easy to drown out. Dita seemed to catch on the easy camaraderie in the group and directed at Clare,

“So, lady, now that that's all out of the way, where exactly did you say which district you came from? I'm drawing a blank.”

“That's because I'm not from a district,” Clare said.

“Oh-hoh? A Centre girl, are you? Thought I noticed that aristocratic mien.”

“Centre? You mean, centre of the region?” Clare asked, referring to Toulouse, the middle of the island.

“Sure, yeah.”

“No, I'm not from Toulouse. I'm from east of here, closer to Doga.”

“Doga? Not familiar with that district.”

“It's not a district,” Clare said. “It's a town in the southwestern region of the island.”

Dita threw his head back and laughed. “ _Island_ ? Oh, lady, you're sure something odd, if you pardon a humble horse breeder.”

“It's alright,” she said, chuckling with her mouth. Her eyes were untouched. “It's all very new to me.”

“Mm. The Karanese district? Or the Titans?”

“Both. All. Everything.”

The man chuckled again, but there was a note of uneasiness where none had been before. He shifted in his saddle, as if repositioning for comfort.

“So, you're not from a district.”

“No.”

“Or from anywhere within Wall Rose.”

“No.”

She could hear him lick his lips. “And you say you're not from the Centre,” he said, a trifle too calm.

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“You . . . have no idea what I'm talking about.”

It was only in the following silence did Clare realize all other conversations had ceased and the same strange uneasiness had permeated the air. A horse pulled up alongside her. It was the Captain.

“Look at me,” he said.

Clare did. His brows tightened, a scowl pulling the corners of his mouth.

“Your eyes,” he asked, but unlike a question's lilt, the intonation was flat. Despite his small stature and boyish face, his voice was surprisingly deep. His diminutive size and unfriendliness reminded her of Sid back in the Holy City, but unlike Sid, this human didn't exude cockiness. If Sid was fire, this one was ice. His shrewd gaze dug into Clare's skin like fishhooks, not a single detail lost. She gazed right back. Had his hair and eyes been like hers, she would've taken him for a Claymore; she wondered if he was his Organization's number one.

“This is how they are,” she replied.

“ _Hn_ . Eren.”

“Huh? Uh, yes sir?”

“Do you recognize this woman?”

The teenager clicked his horse forward so he was abreast with Levi's. He was beginning to acquire the chiseled look of adulthood, much of his baby fat already melted away. Yet when he peered at Clare, she couldn't help think how young he was. Even that girl Petra couldn't be much older, maybe early twenties. Raki couldn't have been much older the first time he saw her.

“No, I've never seen her,” Eren said. “Why do you ask, sir?”

Captain Levi had not once taken his gaze off Clare. Now he blinked and leaned back, relaxing in his saddle with studied nonchalance.

“Only Titans exist beyond the walls,” he said, not noticing—or not caring—how everyone tensed again, “and I thought maybe she was like you.”

“Like me?” Eren echoed, just as Clare thought,  _Like him?_

“I have never seen any of you before,” she said, cool voice cutting through the heated air like watered steel. “I'm searching for someone, and I've traveled very far to find him.” 

Before anyone could reply, Petra said, “We're here.”

The castle was immense and stately, the architecture similar to Rabona's. _Probably built around the same time a hundred years ago,_ she thought as they clattered into a stone courtyard. Long shadows stretched on the ground.  There were more green-cloaks within the interior, no more than twenty in various states of activity. When they noticed the returning party, however, they quickly sprung into action, executing crisp salutes.

“Captain Levi! Back from the resupply run, eh? How many did you . . .” The cheery welcome fell away as the caller picked up the charged atmosphere radiating from the group. As everyone quickly dismounted and the horses were taken away, Clare soon found herself in the centre of a rough circle. Captain Levi remained relatively close by, betraying none of the trepidation the others were displaying. Aside from widening of his stance, he appeared at ease. The boy Eren and Petra also stayed by his side. Clare was removing her hood as a fair-haired man with a mustache approached Captain Levi. He paused ever so slightly in front of her, nose twitching, before turning to the shorter man.

“Sir?”

“Call all the Squad Commanders and have them meet in the winery,” Captain Levi said. “Let's give this for Erwin to chew over.”

Like a demon summoned, a new man stepped to the circle. His footfalls had been nearly soundless; those closest stepped aside with military quickness, smartly snapping to attention. Only Levi greeted the newcomer with a steady, almost lazy regard.

“Who's this?” the new man said.

“We found her, Commander, on our return trip from the resupply run,” Dita replied. None of the easy drawl was present in his tone as he spoke, still rigid in his salute. The new man carried himself with a hunting cat's fluidity, cool and controlled. Both he and Captain Levi comported themselves in similar fashions, but if Levi was ice, this one was stone. When he gazed at her, his expression told her nothing. There was no fear in his gaze, no curiosity, no pity. _This is a different breed of human,_ Clare thought. All of them were. They also seemed more technologically advanced that the typical human she'd dealt with. More disciplined. Military-types. Armored in Rabona, never like this. Had Captain Miria received the same treatment when she visited these villages? Probably not: Miria hadn't stayed long, and she was far more prudent than Clare ever was. 

“My name is Commander Erwin Smith, Thirteenth Commander of the Survey Corps.” His voice was sonorous and even. “On the behalf of everyone, I welcome you,” he said. He gave no indication her silver eyes surprised him. Neither was there lust at her plain beauty, nor revulsion at her differentness. There was nothing; whatever this man was thinking, he was keeping it hidden from her.

“Thank you,” Clare replied.

“If you'd indulge us, we have a few questions we'd like to ask you,” he said.

“Very well,” she said, matching his tone. “As long as I may ask you a few in return.”

Something resembling a smile crossed his face, gone before it could form. “Of course. If you'd follow Captain Levi.”

“You too, Eren. You stay by me,” Levi said.

Clare did as bid, dwarfing the small man and the boy by at least ten centimeters. The other man flanking her leaned in and—well, Clare wondered what the point was in sniffing her, but otherwise he left her alone.

The inside of the castle proved warmer than the courtyard. Though at times murky, torches provided a warm, orange glow. The mustiness of damp stones replaced most of the outside odor of horse. As she was led into a large room, the spicy aroma of wood oil banished the claustrophobic dreariness. She sensed this place both served as dining hall and meeting room; it was big enough to fit at least sixteen people comfortably. The table top appeared recently cleaned. She was motioned to sit at the the far end of the table, farthest from the entrance. All the others sat before her. Commander Erwin Smith sat across from her; across from him was Levi and a man she'd yet to encounter. The boy Eren was there, along with Petra, but unlike the others they sat by the walls—his face pinched and pensive, hers watching the proceedings with a seriousness beyond her young years.

The last time Clare had been in a room with this many humans was in the Holy City. Fresh Blood Agatha had been destroyed. Helen had allowed herself to get drunk and had tried to get Deneve to join her an old battle song. It suddenly struck Clare how much she missed her comrades. Seven years had done much to solidify their bond as warriors, united under Captain Miria's dream of toppling the Organization and avenge those who'd died in the Northern Campaign. The perspective calmed the odd knot in her chest, returning her cool like a grey sea. These humans were miniscule compared to what she and her comrades meant to achieve. She relaxed, found her centre. She returned the Commander's gaze with a distant one of her own. There was nothing they could do to her the Organization hadn't already done. Besides, it was only a matter of time before Yuma and Cynthia found her trail and caught up to her. They _were_ supposed to keep her from doing anything rash, after all.

“What are you called?” Commander Erwin asked.

“Clare,” she said.

“Clare.” The Commander sampled her name one would a fine wine. Or a soldier inspecting a bomb. “Before we continue further, I will ask this next question only once, and I warn you against deception.”

Chairs creaked as many tightened in their seats. Clare waited for inevitable.

“Are you human?”

She considered. If she lied, it would only be a matter of time before they found out she was Claymore. Like animals, they  _knew._ If she had yoki-suppressors to change the colour of her eyes, maybe she would've hid her nature. Not that it mattered. She wasn't planning on staying long. 

_S_ he said at last, “I am not.” 

There were hisses and recoils around the room. More than one hand went to a sword hilt by their side. Only Captain Levi and Commander Erwin didn't outwardly react. Aside from a tightening around their eyes, she could've said 'human.' The gathered men began to grow restless. More than one shot a look at the boy Eren; the boy himself stared at Clare with a greater intensity than before. 

“It's true, isn't it?” one of them muttered. “Titans look like us now!”

“You freely admit it.” It was the Captain, a coolness where there wasn't before.

“Of course,” Clare replied, repeating the same words she'd spoken for most of her adult life. They brought her few joys. “I cannot hide what I am. Most of me is just like you, but a quarter is yoma.”

“Yoma,” Erwin said. He didn't blink. “I am unfamiliar with that term. Is that another word for Titan where you come from?”

_That word again._ “No.”

When it became clear she would say no more, Auruo said, “Erwin, she has to prove she's not a Titan. Who knows what kind of a monster she is, especially with this 'yoma' business.”

Clare ignored him, eyes for Commander Erwin alone. “I was part of the Organization until myself and six others defected.”

Within seconds, everyone was asking:

“What's this 'Organization' you speak of?”

“You mean to say there are others like you?”

“How many of you?”

“Where are you located?”

For the first time, Clare truly hesitated. Since learning her non-human status, these humans seemed a hairsbreadth away from leaping across the table at her; some of them still hadn't released their sword handles. And from what she'd seen, it was clear these people had enough trouble with the Titans than to worry about yoma, Awakened Beings, and Abyssal Ones. She'd already told them so much already—perhaps too much. She could hear Phantom Miria berating her for exposing humans to unnecessary stress. _You always did lack tact._

“My Captain told me not to get involved,” Clare finally said when the silence grew expectant.

“Your 'Captain?'” Erwin's expression narrowed. “You're part of a military outfit?”

“I was. Now I am simply Clare.”

Auruo said, “Hey, aren't you going to answer any of the other questions?”

“Auruo,” Commander Erwin said. The other man quieted down instantly. Erwin regarded Clare from above steepled hands. “Alright, then, Clare. What are your intentions here? Lie, and we won't hesitate to take you down.”

_Miria was right: these humans truly have never encountered a Claymore,_ she thought. No sane human back home would ever dare threaten a silver-eyed witch—only Sid spoke to her with such fearlessness. And there was Raki. Only he saw her beyond her chilly aloofness and silver eyes. Clare had accepted these two men as exceptions to the rule, but since coming here to these strange western lands, she began to realize how limited her perceptions were of them. These humans seemed keener, more alert, more deadly; if the humans back in Toulouse were dogs, these humans were wolves. 

“It is not my intention of harming anyone,” Clare said. “I've only come in search for a human boy.”

This seemed to take everyone off-guard.

“A boy?” Eld asked.

“He'd be a man now.”

“What does he look like?” another asked.

“He would have brown eyes.”

There was a snort. “Brown eyes?” It was Auruo, covering his mouth with a hand. “That's all you got?”

Clare tried not to let her calmness slip. “It's been seven years. I would know him when I see him.”

“Is he . . .?”

“He's human, like you.”

“How can we know what you say is true?” It was Erwin again.

“Commander Erwin,” she said, patience worn. “I've come here for one purpose and one purpose only. The moment I've completed that goal I will leave, be it success or failure. I did not come here to prove my humanity or anything else. I have traveled non-stop for a week and I am tired. I will sleep tonight and in the morning continue my mission. I suggest you do not try to stop me.”

Chairs creaked as soldiers resettled. When Commander Erwin responded, his tone had regained its own brand of steel. “It's our duty not to allow anything inside the wall that may present a danger to humanity. Unless you prove your intentions, I cannot allow you further access than this.”

Irritation surged through Clare. She was beginning to miss the terrified villagers she was used to. “It's against my nature to harm humans. I became what I am to protect your kind. Take from this what you will, but tomorrow at sunrise I will leave this castle and continue my search. Besides,” she added, “I am no friend of those monsters you call Titans.”

“It's true, Commander,” the girl Petra said. “She killed one single-handedly.”

“That's not so uncommon. Captain Levi does it all the time,” Auruo drawled, slouching against his chair.

“I'm not common,” Levi said, just as Petra snapped, “Without maneuvering gear?”

“Thank you, Petra,” Commander Smith said. Clare heard the gentle rebuke. To Clare herself he said, “The fact remains we don't know what you are, and though you claim to be searching for someone, we cannot prove the validity of that statement. You are simply too new. It is my intention to send out riders to inform the other military branches of your arrival. Proof life exists beyond the walls is too big to keep amongst the Survey Corps.”

“Not to mention it'll strengthen the Corps' position. Now they will have to continue funding the expeditions,” the one who'd sniffed Clare said. _Mike,_ she remembered. 

“Has there been any other besides me?” Clare asked. Hope burned beneath her ribs. “The man I mentioned. He would've arrived beyond your walls.”

Everyone gazed at the Commander.

“No such report has ever been brought to my attention,” the Commander said.

Clare leaned forward. “Is there a chance he may have entered without your knowledge?”

“It's possible, but highly doubtful. His clothes would've instantly marked him as an outsider, just as yours do you. He would've been reported.”

“You could always ask the Garrison,They always keep track of the populations' movements,” Mike piped up. He nodded her way. “ They're the ones with the rose-and-thorns sigil on their jackets.”

“Then in the morning that's what I shall do,” Clare said, struggling to hide her disappointment.  _Seems like my appearance will cast ripples,_ she thought. Too late for a simple search-and-find. But maybe news of her arrival will travel amongst the ranks of humans until they landed upon the right ears.  _Raki_ , she thought.  _I hope you receive my message._

“Very well. You have given me much to think about.  We will retire for now, but rest assured, we _will_ continue this discussion in the morning,” Erwin said.

As the Commander stood up, everyone followed suite. Clare rose last.

“Apologies for our suspicion,” Captain Levi said, though there wasn't an ounce of apology in his tone, “but we ask you to sleep in a cell tonight. As a precaution. Eren and Auruo will guide you.”

Auruo choked. “Gah! Uh, but sir—!”

“Relax, Auruo,” the Captain drawled, “Clare doesn't mean to hurt us. There shouldn't be any trouble.”

Clare said nothing, unwilling to play the game. Auruo sputtered and hawed a little more, but quickly quieted. He shot Clare a jaundiced look and agitated the white cravat bunched at his throat. He then paused, eyes flicking to the sword handle over her shoulder. “Ah, uh, about your weapon . . .?”

Clare forced herself not to tense. “Where I go, my claymore goes with me,” she said. She turned to address the leader. “I have already given you my promise not to harm a human being while I am within your walls, Commander Erwin.”

For a long moment the Commander held Clare's gaze, again surprising her at his lack of fear for her silver regard. A part of her wished for the humans she'd grown accustomed to. Their reactions she could anticipate and counter; these human were strange. Both incredibly skittish and stalwart, they offered her no familiar ground.  _I'll speak to Captain Miria about her experiences with these people,_ she thought.  _When I return._

“What do you think, Captain?” Erwin asked. 

Captain Levi shrugged. “Like I said. She tries anything, we take her down without hesitation. Oh, and Petra, G ünther,  Dita. A moment.”

It was enough for Auruo. Face still twisted if he swallowed a lemon, he said, “Alright, alright—you two, come with me.”

Before leaving the room entirely, Clare overhead one man mutter to another: “We've already had a brush with Eren. Remember convincing the others not to kill the boy? Now this? The Military Police will have a field day once they find out . . .”

Then the door closed, and she was once again in the fire-lit stone hallway. Only then did she release the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her shoulders relaxing. Auruo quickly led her and the boy down a series of steps, their footfalls echoing off the stone. As they walked Clare noticed the boy Eren shiver and rub his arms. As a silver-eyed witch, temperature and physical comfort meant little to her. When he caught her staring he offered her a sheepish smile; it was a young gesture, and it didn't sit with the graveness around his eyes. She suddenly had to ask.

“Back there, in the courtyard. Why did the Captain compare us? He asked if I was like you.”

In front of them Auruo snorted under his breath.

The boy flushed. “It's, it's because—well, it's because . . .”

“You'd better tell her, Eren,” the older man said, glancing over his shoulder. “If you're going to be bunkmates, there should be no surprises. Ha!”

Eren hid his discomfort if the man's words hurt. He cleared his throat, took a breath, and lifted his chin. He looked Clare straight in the eyes. “Because I'm a Titan.”

Clare blinked. Him, a Titan? Could that mean he was he like her, Partially Awakened? Was his latent abilities tied to the Organization's failed experiments long ago? _Too many questions, not enough answers,_ she thought. It seemed the simple search for Raki was taking a life of its own. No, it couldn't—like Miria before her, she would have to leave these lands to satisfy old oaths. Little good would come of her mingling with these humans anymore than she needed to; losing sight now was to lose Raki. By now Yuma and Cynthia were no doubt a day or two behind her, if not caught up already. She needed to find Raki before they took her back to Captain Miria. 

The boy's look of surprise pulled her from her thoughts. Clearly he'd expected some sort of reaction.

“You're, uh, you're not afraid?”

“Afraid? No, I am not afraid.” Something like a smile crossed her face. “In fact, I am quite used to your position.”

She saw Auruo's ears perk up, but she ignored him. In her mind he was a barking dog with weak bite.

“Where I'm from, there are few humans who don't fear Claymores.”

“Really?” Eren said. He was silent for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “You don't look all that frightening to me.”

A real smile came to Clare then, soft and inward. “That's what Raki said.”

“Raki? Is that—is that the man you're trying to find?”

“Yes,” she said, but something about her tone discouraged the boy from asking any further.

The trio didn't speak again for the remainder of the trip. When they reached the dungeons, Clare was relieved. As dungeons went, she'd seen much worse. It was dry and didn't reek of rat and mildew. She remembered Riful of the West's labyrinth and hid a shudder. Auruo led them to the very end of the hall, the flames in the fire sconces guttering softly in their wake. Two guards were playing a dice game when they walked up; they glanced at Clare and Eren with professional disinterest. There was only one cell, and only one bed. Eren flushed again, but before he could say anything, Clare walked to a corner, unsheathed her sword, and propped it against the wall. She sat down and leaned against the cool, solid weight of the claymore, stretching one leg out in front of her. The weariness she'd been pushing at bay for a week nestled over her shoulders like an iron shroud. It felt good to close her eyes. She heard the boy step in after her, hesitating. The guards closed and locked the door like a _clack_. She tried not to smile; she intended to keep her promise and resume her search in the morning, iron bars or no. She opened her eyes and glanced at Eren. He was perched on the edge of the bed, seemingly at a loss for words. Something like pity filled her. _How long has he stayed in this cell?_

Almost as if reading her mind, he said, “It's not that bad. I mean, I don't blame them for it. Captain Levi was kind enough not to chain me up every night. They did, at first, but I think they're starting to trust me.”

He broke off, skittish under Clare's unblinking gaze.

“Don't let it bother you,” she said, with more heat than she meant.

“What?”

“They're human. They are supposed to hate and fear what they don't understand.”

“And for good reason!” Eren said. “Titans destroy everything they touch. Ever since they've breached the Wall, all they do is hurt people. One day . . . I'm going to kill them all.” A dark look crossed his face. It was an old rage, deep and twisting, enough so to age him a decade. It was an emotion Clare knew intimately. _They must've killed someone he loved._ Then it was gone, submerging behind whatever mask he'd placed. He was Eren the Boy again.

“Is it better out there?” he suddenly asked. “Beyond the walls. What's it like?”

As he gazed at her with hope, the same hope Raki wore back then, all Clare could think about were the multitudes of humans used in the Organization's schemes. Creating the ultimate warrior against the dragon's kin on the mainland; the sacrificed Claymores; the Awakened Beings; the abyssal eaters; the destroyed towns; the devoured families.

She closed her eyes. “This world isn't kind to the human race,” she said, then went quiet, and though Eren timidly tried asking a few more questions, she didn't reply, and soon silence fell upon them.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

 

“Please,” Clare said. “I need to relieve myself.”

The guards exchanged glances. “Alright,” one said, “but we're following you.”

“Of course,” she replied, playing the demure lady. They opened the jail cell. She stood up, sword a comfortable weight against her back. The boy Eren was still asleep, though it wasn't peaceful, his brow pinched and sweaty. Clare left him to his demons, knowing she had hers to settle.

“Before you say anything, I have Commander Erwin's permission to carry my sword wherever I go,” she said. She nodded to their own swords slung on their hips. “Warrior to warrior, I am sure you understand.”

One of them yawned. “Whatever, lady. Let's just get this over with.”

One guard led and the other followed behind, sandwiching her between them. They led her up several stairs before stopping by small, dark room. The latrine was constructed in a similar fashion to Rabona's: it was little more than a hole was cut into a wooden plank. A long, narrow window was above it, chiseled deep within the stone walls, allowing for circulation. The sky outside was beginning to lighten— _it must be near dawn,_ she thought. The air felt cool against her cheek. 

“Be quick,” the older of the two guards said. “We'll give you some privacy, but take longer than you need to and we'll come in.”

“Of course,” Clare said again.

They shut the door and left her in the room. With a light step she leapt to the engraved window, clinging to the stones like a lizard. The window was smaller than it looked, but Clare was in no mood to return to the jail cell. The burning desire to find Raki before the final confrontation with the Organization had morphed into urgency, an urgency tinged with discouragement.

Phantom Miria's voice echoed in her ear:  _Clare, do you want to go to the west? Go there. Clean up all your regrets._

_I still have my regret, Miria,_ Clare thought. She had to remove the broadsword to fit through the window. She held its hilt tight in her right hand.  _I fear Raki never came by these strange lands._ It was as if an Abyssal One was squeezing her chest. For a moment she feared she'd overestimated her abilities; she sucked in her breath and, with one last shove, pushed most of her body through. She clung to the edges of the outside window the best she could. From her vantage point she saw it was empty save two green-cloaked persons entering the makeshift stables. 

Clare looked down. The drop would easily kill a man. After a moment of weightlessness, she landed in a low crouch on the stones below, unhurt. Her dark armor and clothes would keep her camouflaged for only a short time more; already the sky was developing bands of orange and greenish-blue in the east.  _Like sneaking in the Holy City_ , she thought. Though her laconic expression never changed, something in her heart lightened.  _Will we meet again, Sid? Galk? I hope so._ Without running, she sheathed her broadsword and began to walk away from the castle, careful not to draw attention to herself. At first she went without direction, passing under a large stone arch, but before long she noticed someone with two roses embroidered into the back of their jacket. They were solitary, and walking towards a cluster of green tents.  _The Garrison,_ she thought.  _Mike said they would've known if Raki passed through._ She hurried to intersect the man. He passed behind a tent corner. She rounded the same corner a moment later—

And stopped.

Two Titans stared back at her, their eyes wet and glistening. Clare controlled the initial urge to pull her sword out, realizing black cords around their necks kept them restrained. No, not just cords—both had their limbs literally nailed to the ground. The shorter one sat upright,  _hough_ ing quietly. The taller one was on his belly, big white teeth smiling at her. Though there'd been a low scattering of voices before Clare appeared, the conversations died as she stepped closer to the downed human-not-human. She stared hard at it, searching for traces of the Organization in those dead-living eyes. It was like watching something inanimate frightening, purposefully alive.

“Have you done this?” she asked, more to the Organization's spirit than the Titans themselves. Unidentifiable intelligence gleamed back at her. It said nothing, but its jaws were working harder now. She moved closer, curious, hoping to see the Organization's presence.

“Miss? Miss, uh—”

“Are you responsible?” she asked again.

“Miss, you're getting too close!”

A finger the size of her body twitched. That was her only warning as the Titan projected its head forward, bringing its jaws to snap a foot from her. The  _clack_ of its teeth vibrated through her chest and the stench of its hot, monstrous breath washed over her. A hand snatched her upper arm and pulled her roughly back. When they were a safe distance the speaker spun her around. 

“ _Miss_ ! Are you out of your . . .” The hand dropped away. The young woman who had held her fell a step. She blinked, frowning. “Your eyes. What's with your eyes?”

Before Clare could respond, a new voice shot through the air with excitement. “Eyes? What's this? Show me!”

Clare turned and found herself staring into another woman's face. She was dressed almost identically to the others, green cloak warding off the early morning chill. Glasses were strapped to her head, which seemed to multiply her exuberance as she gushed:

“Ooooh, they  _are_ silver! I couldn't believe it when I heard; is it corneal refraction? The actual colour of the iris? Were you born this way? Made? Some sort of chemical imbalance? Implants?”

Clare weathered the barrage of questions until the strange woman finally drew a breath. “I'm Clare.”

“Ah! Forgive me—I am from the Survey Corps. Major Zo ë Hange, at your service! I would've come sooner when I heard about a traveler beyond the walls, but when I'm around the Titans I seem to lose all track of time! I apologize for Bean; he can be so feisty in the morning.”

“Bean?” Clare looked over the woman's shoulder to the Titan nailed to the ground.

If possible, Hange's face brightened even more. “Oh, you haven't been introduced properly!”

Over the course of the next several minutes, Clare learned the Major and others had captured the two Titans—Sawney and Bean—for scientific research. The guards around them listened with varying degrees of boredom and revulsion; it was clear they've heard it all before.  _Definitely not like the villagers back home,_ Clare thought as the Major cooed over Bean. She couldn't remember encountering a human so enthralled with monsters.  _Even Raki wasn't like this._ Or had he been? The memory of their first encounter, of his undeniable attraction towards her, resurfaced. It was a well-loved recollection, replayed more times in the past seven years than Clare could count. How fearless he had been. How resolute. . . . It was the same resolution she herself had shown when she followed Teresa.  _Teresa._ The old sadness tinged. 

“. . . interacting with the Titans was so enlightening, it made me entirely forget my everyday fatigue. There is just so much to  _learn,_ you see?” The Major stopped, peering eagerly at her. “What about you? What are the Titans like where you're from?”

A familiar dry voice cut through the air before Clare could respond.

“Good thing we found you when we did.” Captain Levi, Petra, Auruo, and Eren pushed through the ring of onlookers. Though the Captain was nearly the shortest person of the group, everyone gave way as he stepped to Major Hange, white cravat bunched at his throat. He fixed Clare with a flat, humorless stare. “Otherwise she may've started dissecting you.”

Instead of arguing, the Major pouted. “Captain!”

Captain Levi ignored her. His eyes were for Clare alone. “That was some trick, escaping out the latrine window.”

The ex-warrior shrugged. “My time is short, Captain. I must complete my mission soon before I return to my comrades.”  _Or before Cynthia and Yuma catch up to me._ There'd been no sign of the two Claymores assigned to her; had they truly lost her track? Somehow Clare doubted it. 

“Commander Erwin still has questions he'd like answered,” Captain Levi said.

“I will answer the best I can,” Clare replied, but with mounting impatience. “After you show me the way to the Garrison. Please.”

The smaller, upright Titan began to  _hough,_ teeth clacking, the cords around his neck straining as he tried to lean forward. Zo ë Hange cooed again, wishing him a good morning. The boy Eren cast the two Titans uneasy looks, copying the expressions of nearly all the guardsmen. Only the Captain and Major seemed unperturbed, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Auruo will lead the way to the main outpost on Wall Rose,” the small man said. Louder, over the other man's sputters, he added: “We will escort you.”

Clare nodded. “Of course.”

Early morning didn't seem to suit the gray-haired man. He sported dark bags under his eyes and kept grumbling under his breath as he led Clare and the others away from the two bound Titans. The Major followed, walking alongside her. Eren walked on her other side, offering an apple, which Clare accepted. Petra remained a little ahead, while the Captain formed the rear. Within moments Clare realized they were heading back towards the city they'd passed through yesterday.

“But really,” Hange said, “such silver eyes!”

“They come from a loss of pigmentation,” Clare said, “when I eventually became what I am. Originally, they were as brown as yours.”

“Oooh, how interesting! And what was that process?” the woman asked.

_The Organization merges yoma and human flesh and blood together in little girls,_ Clare thought. The apple in her hand gleamed red.  _Then train them to become terrible killers._ Beneath her clothes, the vertical line of stitches running from torso to groin ached. “Torture,” she said. 

“Aah,” the Major clucked, smile faltering. “That doesn't seem very pleasant.”

“Just like listening to you,” Captain Levi said.

“Hey!”

“What will you do when you find Raki?” Eren asked, piping over the Major's good-natured growls. He had yet to say anything. He smiled shyly at Clare.

She blinked at him. He appeared much younger than when he was in the jail cell. What kind of man would he grow up to be?  _If he's a monster like me, what future will he have?_ “I don't know,” she said, turning her head away. They were close to the city, their boots crunching on the dirt road. Bright green grass framed either side of the group. She tossed the finished apple core, full; she wouldn't have to eat for another week. 

“Maybe Raki will know for the both of you,” Eren tried, after it became clear Clare wasn't going to add anything else. His eyebrows rose when Clare chuckled.

“Yes. Yes, he would.” Her expression softened, turned inward. “He always does.”

There was a loud snort up front where Auruo walked. He glanced over his shoulder, showing the group his profile. “If he's even real,” he said. “You could be taking us on a wild goose chase, lady.”

Clare hadn't planned on responding: she was already tired of explaining herself, tired of the traveling this far west with nothing to show for it, tired of this man's petty little barks. She found herself surprised when help came from an unexpected quarter.

“Lay off, Auruo,” Petra said. In the bright, beautiful morning, her hair shown like fire. “Only a fool would fail to see she cares for this person.”

Auruo snorted again, waving her off, but didn't reply. Petra glanced at Clare, narrowing her eyes. “I wanted to ask you earlier, but never had a chance. Your sword: what's it made out of? It must be of some incredibly strong material.”

“Why do you ask?” Clare said, feeling the Major perk besides her.

“I saw you decapitated that Titan with one cut,” Petra replied. Her gaze was shrewd; hers wasn't the only one. “Very few have ever done that.”

Again, Auruo made a grunt of derision. “A bit of an overkill,” he drawled loudly. “Everyone knows you only need to cut a Titan's nape to get the job done.”

“You mentioned you've never encountered Titans where you're from,” Captain Levi said, tone bored. “So then why do you need a powerful sword?”

All eyes turned to her. Though everyone kept walking, Clare felt the pause all around her. The expectancy was an electric current. Captain Levi continued speaking behind her, tone still insouciant, but loud enough so everyone could hear; he had yet to miss a step.

“I think instead of Titans, you use your sword to kill these 'yoma'. And if your sword is strong enough to decapitate a Titan in one blow, I assume these yoma must be powerful enough for people to create hybrids like you to kill them. Am I correct?”

Clare said, after a long moment had passed: “I suspect you're your Organization's Number One.”

Captain Levi didn't reply. It was Petra who said, proudly, “He is.”

Clare's mouth twitched at the corners. “I had a feeling. To you I say this: I do not withhold information out of spite, but out of kindness. You humans have enough to deal with these Titans; I do not wish to burden any of you with the knowledge of what is beyond your walls.”

“Then it _is_ worse where you're from,” Captain Levi said, again framing his sentence into a statement rather than a question. He pulled up besides her, Hange stepping back to take rear guard. Though his expressionless face never alter, Clare thought she heard something change in his voice. “Hn. Your tongue's looser on the road.” 

“Oh, sneaky you, Captain Levi!” Major Hange said.

“It was Erwin's idea. He figured there'd be no use drawing information from you while sitting at a table.” He never broke eye contact with Clare, something like a frown settling on his brow. “Despite your best intentions, any and all information you'll provide us can only aid us prepare for the world. You've also described this land as an island—why is that.”

“Captain Levi,” Clare said, tone weary. She stopped to look each of them in the eye. “Major Hange. Petra. Eren. Auruo. If your hope is precious to you, please, do not ask me anymore about life beyond the walls.”

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

The sun was barely halfway up in the sky when they entered the bustling city of the Karanese district. People noticed the green cloaks with the winged emblems and quickly gave way, their whispers increasing when they spotted Captain Levi. The man himself made no sign of hearing the murmurs of adoration, walking with the same laconic expression as before. Clare kept her hood up. The less people saw of her silver eyes, the better. All the same, she still found the bustle and commotion fascinating.  _Humans,_ she thought. It still astonished her how resilient these creatures were, despite all the dangers they faced. Of course, that resilience came at a cost; almost subconsciously, her gaze flicked to the massive wall spanning the horizon. It was hard to forget about it, but she still found herself once against marveling at its grandeur and scale. It loomed, bright gray in the sunlight. It was swallowing the sky when Auruo finally stopped by the Garrison outpost. It was by the same gate Clare had originally entered through yesterday. 

A pair of Stationary Guards greeted the party, saluting smartly.

Petra took charge. “Fetch your supervisor,” she said. “We need to see the Records.”

“The Records?” A tall woman with a nondescript face stepped out of the station, wiping grease from her fingers. She was taller than even Clare, hair a muddy brown. She wore the same military outfit as everyone, except wore two roses on her jacket instead of wings. “What business does the Survey Corps have with the them?”

Petra began, “That's none—”

“Has an outsider beyond the walls ever came through here?” Clare asked, stepping forward. “A man?”

Clare heard Auruo hiss an oath under his breath. The woman peered at her, but Clare's cowl was down, covering her eyes. The woman chuckled and smiled at Captain Levi. “I'm sorry, sir, but you've made this trek for nothing. Anyone could tell you there's been no such outsider; believe me, if one  _had_ crossed through Titan territory and came through any outpost, we would've known.”

“There's nothing in the Records, then?” Petra asked. She and Auruo shared a look.

The woman shook her head. “No, ma'am. You could still look through them if you want, but you'll find nothing. It'll be the same for any outpost you visit.”

Captain Levi didn't turn to Clare when he said: “Have the answer you're looking for?”

Clare didn't allow herself to falter.  _We've been apart for seven years, Raki_ , she thought.  _What's a little longer more?_ She bowed her head, crushing the disappointment rising in her chest. “Yes. Thank you . . . it is clear Raki never came this way. Therefore, I must de—”

“Hold it!”

Clare looked over her shoulder. Besides her, Major Hange frowned. She muttered under her breath, “The Military Police?”

Ten new soldiers were approaching them, their horses lathered and blowing hard. The men and women sported the same dusty half-jacket, white clothes, black straps, the only difference being the green unicorn on their sleeves. Rifles gleamed behind their shoulders. They eyed Eren distrustfully, but kept most of their focus on Clare. 

One of the soldiers prodded his horse forward. “By the order of Commander-in-Chief Darius Kackly, you're not going anywhere.”

“I think we have a misunderstanding,” Clare replied, her back still turned them. Auruo, Petra, and Eren jerked their heads at _Darius Kackly_. The Stationary Guards behind them stiffened. “I must return to my captain; my mission to find the person failed.”

“That is none of our concern. This order comes from the top: you must come with us to answer our questions.”

Clare turned to face the Military Police, lifting the hood from her face for the first time since entering the Karanese district. The soldiers' faces tightened at her silver gaze.

“I have no intention of doing this,” she said coolly.

“Then we have no choice but to bring you in by force.” The lead soldier barked to the surrounding Stationary Guard, “Close the gate! No one is leaving! This is under Military Police jurisdic— _hey!_ ” 

Clare bolted down an adjacent street, cloak flapping behind her. She could hear  _Stop her! By order of Kackly, stop her!_ hounding her steps, but she didn't care. The Military Police charged after her, their horses' hooves clattering on the flagstones. People caught onto the commotion and hurried to the sidelines; mothers had to grab wayward children out of Clare's path. The cries and shouts rose in pitch as the horses bulled through the street. Clare glanced over her shoulder to find five mounted soldiers baring down on her. She put on a burst of speed as the five other soldiers, having circled around, clattered into the main street in an attempt to cut her off. Onlookers gasped as she leapt to the rooftops with a single bound, leaving the horses skidding and rearing below her. 

“Clare!”

The ex-warrior turned to find Eren on the rooftop behind her. Petra, Auruo, and some of the Stationary Guard were close behind; Captain Levi and Major Hange were nowhere to be seen. All of them were now wearing 3D maneuvering gear under their cloaks.  _Curtesy to the Garrison,_ Clare thought. 

“What are you doing?” Eren said.

“I need to leave,” Clare replied, snapping more than she intended. “Now.”

“You're going to make things worse! Just go with them!”

“No,” she said. There was blatant concern in the boy's eyes, trepidation: what was he seeing? His past? His future? How much of himself could he recognize in her?  _In life you will have to make your choice,_ she thought,  _just as I made mine._

Clare began running agin, pounding up and down the tiled roofs, just as she had done in the Holy City of Rabona all those years ago. Within moments it became clear Eren and the others had no problem following her; their gear allowed them to trail with little difficulty. They were like dragonflies, slingshotting from one building to the other; even distempered Auruo gained a grace he never had on the ground. The wall was close now. She gathered herself, preparing to leap, when suddenly an  attack came from nowhere; only Clare's peripheral vision and unhuman speed allowed her to unsheathe her sword and block Captain Levi's own. There was a split moment their noses were almost touching over the crossed blades, then they separated by mutual push. The sheer power in the Captain's kickoff was enough to drive her off the roof and back down on the street. _What a human!_ she thought. When she landed, she found Major Hange standing before her. Captain Levi landed a moment later besides the Major. His cool expression was unchanged, even when he inspected the crack in his blade. He ejected it and replaced it with practiced ease.

“Don't take it personally,” Major Hange said. Her own sword was drawn. The eyes behind the glasses were bright. “Kackly is our Commander. To disobey is to commit treason.”

“I understand,” Clare said, but inside she was chafing.  _Teresa disobeyed one of the Organization's rules, and thought she was condemned to die, that didn't stop her from doing what she felt was right._ But Teresa was one of a kind, and the ex-warrior's heart clenched anew. She didn't try running as the Military Police skidded into view. Half of them had dismounted and held their weapons cocked at her. The other half remained on horses, also keeping their rifles trained on her. They formed a rough semi-circle, boxing her against a house, cutting off every avenue of escape except for upward. Clare held her sword out in front of her, but otherwise kept still. If they were yoma, she would've destroyed them all, but these were ordinary people. Though her expression never changed, her eyes tightened. The Organization had destroyed humanity enough, and though no longer part of the Organization, she still won't harm a human. Her eyes flicked upward; Eren and the other members of the Survey Corps remained on the rooftops, watching the scene from above. 

“I don't want to hurt any of you,” Clare said. “I just want to return to my captain.”

“And you will be allowed to leave,” the same Military Policeman as before said, “ _after_ you come with us.”

_If I go with him, I will never return._ Clare's face smoothed into a cold mask that hid her growing anger. “I'm done answering questions.”

“This is your last chance to comply peacefully—otherwise you will be deemed a threat to humanity and neutralized.”

“Humans,” Clare said, not bothering to hide the disgust she felt. The soldiers widened their stances, faces furrowed and hard. Somewhere in the background, Captain Levi and Major Hange watched on with unreadable expressions. “It is clear to me the wall's not only around you, but in your minds as well.”

The soldier's face darkened further. “Very well. You give us no—”

“Oh, hello there!”

Everyone's head snapped up as two shapes landed on either side of Clare. Her eyes widened as she realized who they were.

“Cynthia! Yuma!” she cried.

“Getting into trouble again, Clare?” Cynthia said. She had to raise her voice over the shouts of  _There's more of them? Where are they coming from?_ Her silver eyes glittered. “Why am I not surprised?”

“We have to get out of here without harming any of the humans,” Clare said back.

“I can't sense any yoma,” Yuma said.

“That's because there aren't any here,” Clare replied. “Just humans and their Titans.”

The lead soldier's expression was thunderous. “Stop! By order of Darius Kackley, you're to—”

“These people are twitchy, aren't they?” Cynthia drawled. Her perpetual smile widened. “Escaping a bunch of humans shouldn't be too difficult. Let's put on a show for them, eh? Clare, remember evading Riful with Deneve, Captain Miria, and Helen? I say on three!”

Clare leapt forward and unleashed her Windcutter technique; able to cut through the soft metal at a speed faster than a human eye could manage, within seconds all the rifles aimed their way were cut in pieces. Not an inch of skin was touched. As the soldiers dropped what remained to the ground in furious surprise, the three Claymores scattered, each leaping impossibly high and in separate directions. The Military Police roared after them. Clare found renewed strength in her limbs as she raced towards the wall, leaping from one rooftop to the next.

“Hoh-oh! What wonderful speed you have!” Major Hange said, keeping pace with her maneuvering gear. Her sword was holstered. “It's really too bad this has to end this way; I would've loved to understand you!”

“May you defeat your enemies, Major,” Clare said back, with feeling, “and the best of luck to you.” With a burst of speed, she reached the wall. Cynthia and Yuma were already there; when they reunited, they began scaling the wall in parallel tracks, running without pause. Shouting above them soon replaced the shouts from the Military Police below them. In a dozen bounds the three ex-warriors reached the top. A wall of bristling guns greeted them from Garrison soldiers.

“Don't take another st—”

“Watch out!” Clare said. She unsheathed her sword and unleashed her Windcutter technique for the second time, rendering all weapons useless. They fell from nerveless hands to the ground as she, Yuma, and Cynthia crossed the twenty-four feet and, like suicides, fell. The wind whistled through her hair as the world rushed up to meet her. The greenery stretched as a vast expanse, and before she hit the ground, Clare wondered where Raki could be.

They kept running until the wall was a white suggestion. It felt good to distance herself from this brand of human; Clare wanted to keep running. From the strange walls. From the Organization. Perhaps even from the island itself and all its horrors, but she knew that was impossible. Her life was tied to Captain Miria's, and Miria's was tied to the Organization's fate.  _And Raki,_ she thought.  _Wherever he might be._ The sun had reached its zenith when they stopped by mutual agreement in a wide empty field. There was no pursuit, but Clare wasn't expecting one. Neither were there Titans, but the friends still held themselves in a loose triangle, ready for any unpleasant trouble. 

“Good thing we came when we did, eh, Clare?” Cynthia said slyly, smiling.

“I'm sorry I left you two after Agatha's defeat,” Clare said, nodding to her two companions. “It was wrong of me.”

“We know how much you like working alone,” Yuma said. “We tailed you just far enough to stay under your notice.”

“In this case,” Clare said, turning around to glance behind her, “caution would've been better.” Though they were far enough away for the wall to be nothing but a dazzling white line, but she could still feel it like a physical weight against her back. Like an Awakened Being, it had a presence all to itself. Her thoughts went to Eren. In many ways he was like her. How long would he survive amongst such terrified people? Though she would be glad never to return, she did wish to know what would become of the boy. She hoped he had friends who would protect him from those who hated him, as she once had Teresa.  _And now, my six comrades,_ she thought. 

“You mentioned Titans,” Cynthia said, shaking Clare from her thoughts.

“Titans? You mean those strange monsters?” Yuma asked, but even as she did, her face hardened. There was a moment when none of them spoke, their thoughts grim.

At last it was Clare who said, “I cannot confirm this, but I wouldn't be surprised if the Organization had a hand in their creation.”

“What did you tell the humans about us?” Cynthia said, still wearing the expression of a cat flicking water from its whiskers.

“Very little. Their Number One guessed at several truths,” Clare admitted. “But I never confirmed.

“And Raki?”

Clare shook her head.

“We'd hoped you'd find him,” Yuma said.

“I did as well. But now I have no regrets. I have gone to the west, as Miria bade me to; now I must look forward and hope my path collides with his.”

Before the others could reply, they heard a pained bellow come from somewhere in the north, closer than any of them liked. It was like an animal's cry, wordless and filled with dim intelligence, but they knew the sound didn't come from an animal throat.

Cynthia threw her hands above her head and stretched, sighing. “Looks like that's our cue to leave. They may not be as tough to kill as Awakened Beings, but they're still a drag to deal with. Titans, you say? Won't we have a story to tell Captain Miria when we get back.”

Clare took up the rear-guard, relieved to be finally amongst familiar comrades. She took one last look behind her, then for the rest of the duration of the journey, kept her gaze fixed forward.

_I'm coming, Raki._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_-fin-_

 


End file.
